How Hardware & Electrical Engineers can get management on board for breaking the status quo

Introduction

Every company has its own rhythm. A status quo. A comfortable, if imperfect, way of doing things. And then one day, you see a better way. A smoother process. A tool that could solve the versioning chaos or automate the grind away. But how do you go from an “aha” moment to real organizational change when you don’t even know who approves new tools?

This is your hero’s journey.

Borrowing from Joseph Campbell’s mythic structure, we’ll walk through how your personal spark of inspiration can become a fully approved, onboarded, and adopted solution. From calling the trial, to cutting the PO, to gaining allies and facing internal dragons—this is your map.

The hero’s journey: a storytelling framework for change

The hero’s journey is a storytelling template introduced by Joseph Campbell in his seminal work The Hero with a Thousand Faces. It outlines a universal narrative pattern seen across myths, religions, literature, and modern cinema. The journey follows a hero as they leave the known world, face trials, transform through struggle, and return home changed—bringing newfound knowledge or power back to their community.

One of the most famous adaptations of this structure is George Lucas’ Star Wars. In A New Hope, Luke Skywalker begins as a farm boy on Tatooine, unaware of the galaxy’s turmoil. He receives a call to adventure through Princess Leia’s message, meets mentors like Obi-Wan Kenobi and Yoda, faces ordeals like the destruction of Alderaan and his duel with Darth Vader, and ultimately helps bring balance to the Force. Lucas has openly cited Campbell’s work as a foundational influence in shaping the Star Wars universe. Here’s a great reference on that relationship.

Just like Luke, you may not start out with a roadmap, but if you’re holding a vision for change, you’re already on the path.

The stages of the hero’s journey

Here’s a simplified breakdown of the Hero’s Journey as originally outlined by Joseph Campbell—and how these stages mirror the arc of internal change management:

• 1. The ordinary world – The status quo before the tool is discovered.
• 2. The call to adventure – A new tool or idea appears with the promise of change.
• 3. Refusal of the call – Initial doubt or institutional resistance sets in.
• 4. Meeting the mentor – A mentor or ally emerges with insight and guidance.
• 5. Crossing the first threshold – The idea becomes real with a trial or prototype.
• 6. Tests, allies, and enemies – Supporters emerge; challenges begin.
• 7. Approach to the inmost cave – The stakes increase; the case must be built.
• 8. The ordeal – The high-stakes pitch to decision-makers.
• 9. Reward (seizing the sword) – Approval is granted; change is sanctioned.
• 10. The road back – The rollout, onboarding, and cultural shift begin.
• 11. Resurrection – The transformation shows results; validation emerges.
• 12. Return with the elixir – Knowledge is shared; the changemaker becomes a guide.

This isn’t just myth—it resonates because it’s core to the human experience. The hero’s journey is a roadmap for turning inspiration into implementation.

I. The ordinary world

Like Luke toiling away on Tatooine, you begin in a place of monotony—frustrated by inefficiencies but unsure of what lies beyond.

In hardware development, the cracks run deep: duplicated part numbers, BOM mismatches between design and sourcing, and gerber files getting emailed as ZIP attachments with no traceability. You’ve watched designs pass DRC but fail DFM because of unvalidated footprints or outdated connector specs. Design files live in siloed network drives, and version control depends more on naming conventions than on any system of record. When a production issue happens, the first half-hour is spent figuring out which file is the “real” one. It’s a miracle anything ships on time.

You live in the realm of copy-pasted part numbers, out-of-sync schematics, and cryptic file names like “Final_v6_ActuallyFinal.SchDoc.” It works. Kind of. Everyone’s used to it. But you know it could be better.

You’ve seen other companies with clean systems, automated reviews, even Git-style version control for hardware. You daydream about it while waiting for your email thread to load the sixth PDF revision.

You’ve probably even solved local pain points with clever workarounds. But no one’s addressed the core issue: the process itself is broken. And it’s holding everyone back.

II. The call to adventure

Just as Luke receives Leia’s message via R2-D2, you stumble upon a tool that disrupts your routine and hints at a better way.

Then it happens. A peer shares a demo. You read a post on LinkedIn. You attend a webinar. Suddenly, there it is: a tool that could change everything.

You feel a spark of hope. This could solve real pain. You even jot down some notes or send yourself a link. But then, reality: who do I even talk to about buying something?

You start poking around your internal wiki. You Slack a couple people. You’re met with silence or shrugs. The problem isn’t just the tool—it’s the foggy process for introducing new ones.

III. Refusal of the call

Luke initially resists Obi-Wan’s invitation to join the rebellion—just as you second-guess your impulse to push for change.

You hesitate. You’ve seen ideas get shot down before. You don’t have budget authority. You don’t want to stick your neck out if no one’s asking for this.

Maybe you raise it briefly in a meeting and get a half-hearted, “interesting, but not now.”

You tell yourself, someone else will bring it up. But weeks go by. Nothing changes. The friction remains. Your idea fades back into your notes.

And still, the idea nags at you. Each time you update a spreadsheet manually or have to resend the “latest” file for the third time, you think about that tool. You think about how it could’ve prevented the mistake you just spent half a day fixing.

You start overanalyzing. What if this is a distraction? What if it’s not that good? You second-guess your instincts. Better to stay quiet than risk pushing for something that doesn’t pan out.

Then there’s the fear of politics. Maybe it’s not your place. Maybe your manager will think you’re undermining the current process. Or worse, maybe they’ll nod along and ignore you, leaving you exposed and unsupported.

And so you wait. For a better time. For a clearer signal. For someone higher up to say it first. But in your gut, you know the moment is already here—you just haven’t answered it yet.

IV. Meeting the mentor

Obi-Wan gives Luke a lightsaber and perspective; you find your version of a guide who clarifies the path ahead.

A senior engineer mentions they’ve tried similar tools before. A friendly product manager offers to introduce you to someone in procurement. Or maybe a vendor AE walks you through real examples and buyer personas.

These aren’t answers—they’re torches in the dark. You begin to see the shape of the path.

Sometimes mentorship comes from unexpected places. A peer from another team who once navigated a similar change. A Slack thread where someone vents about the same pain. You start connecting the dots.

Other times, you need to go looking. Ask to sit in on a meeting outside your department. Reach out to someone in operations or IT. Have lunch with a team you’ve never interacted with before. Ask people, casually and earnestly, where they’re feeling friction in their work.

Networking inside your own company is often underrated. It doesn’t have to be political—it can be relational. You’re building trust, understanding the terrain, and maybe uncovering allies who don’t even know they’re part of the same battle yet.

Mentors won’t always show up robed in wisdom and holding lightsabers. Sometimes they come disguised as that friendly coworker who asks, “Hey, what are you working on lately?” Don’t miss those moments.

And besides—it’s always good to get to know your extended work family. Especially if you’re planning on shifting the way the whole household runs.

V. Crossing the first threshold

Luke leaves Tatooine with Obi-Wan, stepping into the unknown; you take your leap by initiating the first internal conversations and trials.

You bring the idea to a real stakeholder. Maybe it’s IT. Maybe it’s an engineering manager. You ask, can we trial this?

You realize quickly that humans are skittish—especially in the face of change. Even people who complain about the current system may hesitate to try something new. It’s not a flaw; it’s self-preservation. You would do the same thing in their position. People need to feel safe before they can get excited.

That’s where your work begins. You don’t just drop a link or schedule a pilot—you build a bridge. You frame the trial not as a disruption, but as an opportunity. You invite people gently, you plant curiosity, and you celebrate their engagement without pressure.

Small wins matter here. A teammate logs in? Celebrate it. Someone offers feedback? Share it widely. These micro-moments of encouragement show others that it’s okay to try, okay to care, and okay to trust.

You’re not just crossing a threshold—you’re helping others cross it too. And that requires patience, empathy, and the belief that people want to grow, even if they need a little encouragement to take the first step.

They don’t say no. They just ask questions. Real ones. This is no longer just an idea in your head.

You draft an internal doc. You send out a pilot invite. You get a vendor sandbox set up. Congratulations: you’re officially in uncharted territory.

VI. Tests, allies, and enemies

Luke makes allies like Han and Leia, and faces off against stormtroopers—while you gain internal champions and fend off resistance.

You’ll likely find that enthusiasm isn’t consistent. Someone who was excited at first might become unresponsive. Another person who ignored you initially suddenly has strong opinions once a peer gives them a demo. Emotions fluctuate. The job here isn’t just evangelism—it’s patience.

You’ll face the quiet enemies too: inertia, bandwidth, indecision. These are harder to spot than outright opposition, but just as dangerous. The real friction is rarely a loud “no”—it’s the lingering “maybe later.”

Your allies grow stronger the more you include them. Share progress updates, celebrate their feedback, and elevate their voices. When people feel like co-authors of the change, they become invested in its success.

Eventually, someone you never expected will offer support. Maybe it’s a team lead who heard about the pilot through a teammate. Maybe it’s a director who pops into a meeting with unexpected curiosity. That’s when you realize: this thing has momentum. It’s moving.

VII. Approach to the inmost cave

Luke infiltrates the Death Star to rescue Leia; you gather resources and face your organization’s bureaucracy head-on.

You start to realize how much of the real battle is psychological. You’re not just presenting numbers—you’re addressing fear, uncertainty, and past trauma from tools that didn’t live up to their promise. People have been burned before and have worked nights and weekends to clean up after a mess.

To win hearts, not just sign-offs, you tell a story. You describe the pain points in vivid, relatable terms. You offer a future state that feels tangible, not abstract. You bring voices from the pilot who can speak to real improvements.

You may even rehearse your case with allies before stepping into the actual meeting. Their feedback strengthens your narrative, and their presence in the room gives it weight.

In the back of your mind, you know the meeting might not go how you planned. But you’ve laid the groundwork, planted seeds, and prepared yourself for resistance. You’re not walking in alone. You’re walking in with momentum.You prepare the big ask. You create a doc. You build a case. You list risks, benefits, and mitigation strategies.

You’re nervous. This is where a lot of initiatives die. But you’ve done the work.

You meet with procurement. You align with IT. You rehearse your message. This is the cave of decision—and the final boss is ambiguity.

VIII. The ordeal

Luke witnesses Obi-Wan’s death and must escape the empire—your version is the high-stakes meeting where your proposal lives or dies.

The meeting. Leadership. Procurement. Budget gatekeepers. Skeptics.

Every assumption is questioned. Every flaw is surfaced. You keep your cool. You tell the story, backed by data, user feedback, and urgency.

It’s not a smooth yes. There’s pushback, redlines, and negotiation. But you navigate it. Eventually: approval. The PO is cut.

The impossible becomes real.

And yet, even in that moment, you may feel a strange silence. You’ve crossed the summit, but the adrenaline hasn’t let you celebrate. You start wondering: Did I miss anything? Is this too good to be true?

This is normal. It’s the mental hangover after the emotional peak. Give yourself a breath. The truth is, you didn’t just pitch a tool—you shepherded a vision through ambiguity and risk.

What often gets missed about this stage is how vulnerable it feels. Your idea is out there. Your credibility is on the line. But the courage to show up, to advocate, to stand in front of decision-makers—that’s the real ordeal.

It’s not just about the decision you get. It’s about the leader you become in the process.

IX. The reward (seizing the sword)

After escaping with Leia, Luke earns trust and a clearer purpose—mirrored in your successful approval and growing credibility.

But the reward isn’t just credibility—it’s insight. You now understand how your company really works: who holds influence, where friction lives, what stories resonate. That knowledge is a form of power.

There’s also emotional reward: the quiet joy of seeing teammates benefit from something you helped bring to life. A faster workflow. A reduced error rate. A thank-you message from someone who “finally gets it.”

Still, it’s not all fanfare. You may find yourself surprisingly tired. The climb was long, and even victory takes energy. Give yourself a moment. You earned it.

This is the moment in the story when the sword is claimed. Not just as a weapon—but as a symbol. You now carry proof that change is possible. And you’re trusted to wield it again.The tool is officially in. You feel a rush—not just of victory, but validation. You weren’t imagining the pain. You weren’t naive. You were early.

And now, you’re the person who made it happen.

Stakeholders begin treating you differently. You’re no longer “the person who had that idea,” you’re the person who drove change.

X. The road back

Luke returns to the rebel base to prepare for battle—while you shift focus to implementation and adoption across the team.

Now comes the rollout. Training. Change management. Making sure no one gets left behind. You work with the vendor. You write quick-start guides. You present at team syncs.

You answer the same questions six times. But it’s working. It’s sticking.

You create documentation. You gather metrics. You invite feedback. You tweak onboarding. You learn to manage expectations, not just execution.

You’re translating vision into reality—and helping others cross the chasm from old habits to new workflows. Some team members may struggle, others will surprise you. This is where coaching matters as much as systems.

You find yourself doing a lot of quiet, invisible work: chasing down stragglers, reiterating the purpose, adjusting rollout timelines. It’s not glamorous, but it’s the work that makes the change stick.

And here’s the secret: the rollout is also your opportunity to learn. You see what worked, what didn’t, and how future change can be made smoother. You’re not just delivering—you’re refining the craft.

XI. Resurrection

Luke rises as a leader during the Death Star assault; you’re now seen as someone who not only had the vision but made it real.

You’ve also become a person others consult before making changes. Your credibility is no longer limited to the tool—you’ve shown how to think critically and act responsibly.

This transformation is about more than process—it’s about posture. You’ve shifted from reactive to proactive, from quiet contributor to someone who shapes direction.

You realize that leadership isn’t granted; it’s demonstrated. And your team has seen it, felt it, and begun to reflect it themselves.

This is resurrection—not just of a system, but of a belief: that change is possible, and that it’s worth leading.

Teams are working faster. The process is smoother. You start hearing, “why didn’t we do this sooner?”

What was once seen as risky now feels essential. You’ve become a trusted guide.

And with this change, you’re not just transforming process—you’re shifting culture. People start asking, “what else could we fix?”

XII. Return with the elixir

Luke returns transformed, bringing hope to the galaxy; you share your story, guiding others through their own change initiatives.

Your story becomes more than a personal win—it becomes an internal reference. People start citing your rollout as an example. Someone forwards your documentation to a new hire. Your playbook becomes a spark for someone else’s journey.

You also begin to see change differently. You’re no longer intimidated by friction. You understand the rhythm: skepticism, resistance, slow momentum, then a breakthrough. You carry that pattern like a compass.

Sometimes the elixir isn’t just a tool—it’s the confidence and clarity you now bring to every meeting, every initiative, every brainstorming session. You’ve become a storyteller with receipts.

And in sharing your lessons learned, you invite others to step forward. You’ve reminded the organization—and yourself—that meaningful change doesn’t require permission. It just needs someone willing to begin.You package the journey. A short internal case study. A how-to doc for the next person with an idea. Maybe even feedback to the vendor that shapes the product itself.

You’ve changed—not just your team, but yourself. You’re no longer just an engineer. You’re a change agent.

And you’ve got the map for next time.

Sequels

The beauty of a hero’s journey is that it’s rarely the end. Audiences didn’t stop at a new hope—we got sequels, prequels, spinoffs, and a whole galaxy of stories. Why? Because once a hero proves they can change the world, we want to see what else they’re capable of. People love watching someone grow, persevere, and win—we cheer for them not just because of what they do, but because they remind us of what we might do ourselves.

The same goes for you.

After your first successful journey—after you’ve championed a new tool, rallied stakeholders, and reshaped a team’s workflow—you don’t go back to who you were. You’ve leveled up. You see problems differently. You understand how change happens.

Now, you’re ready for the next quest. Maybe it’s tackling design for manufacturability. Maybe it’s improving onboarding, automating compliance workflows, or bringing ECAD and MCAD teams closer together. The point is: your company is filled with dragons. You’ve already slain one.

And let’s face it—sequels are usually more fun.

Further reading

• AllSpice customer stories – Real-world case studies of teams who navigated their own hero’s journeys in hardware development and process improvement.
• State of Hardware 2025 Report – A comprehensive look at modern hardware workflows, tools, and team challenges across the industry.
• Set up a trial with AllSpice – Take your first step across the threshold by exploring a hands-on pilot of AllSpice’s hardware collaboration platform.
• Building hardware more efficiently – AllSpice Blog – Insights and strategies for overcoming friction in modern engineering workflows.
• The Hero with a Thousand Faces – Book Overview
• The Hero’s Journey Explained – Short Video
• Star Wars and the Hero’s Journey – Lucas on Campbell
• The Power of Myth – Bill Moyers Interviews Joseph Campbell
• Joseph Campbell, Star Wars, and The Hero’s Journey
• The Hero with a Thousand Faces by Joseph Campbell
• The Power of Myth interview series with Bill Moyers